A Very Asian Family
by Dawn96
Summary: After a disastrous vacation, it seems as though Japan has completely destroyed any chance of improving his relationship with his family. The hurt is deep and any hope of reconciliation seems naught. Has he given up on them, or have they given up on him? (Asian Family)
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **_Hello everyone, and welcome to "A Very Asian Family"! I know it's been a long wait (... a very long wait) but, alas, I have returned! This is the third and final installment of the 'Very Asian' trilogy (the first being A Very Asian New Year and the second being A Very Asian Vacation) which you can easily find on my profile page! In order to understand this story, I do advise you to, at least, read through a Very Asian Vacation- it'll make this chapter a bit clearer. _

_Hope this chapter is worth the wait! _

* * *

**A Very Asian Family**

* * *

"_I'm sorry! I'm s-sorry!"_

"_Hush, aru. It's alright, it's just a scratch-"_

"_No! I-I'm sorry! I- I-"_

_He felt terrified. His little hands shook. They clutched his face with horror. He was terrified. _

"_I'm sorry!" his voice cracked. It was hoarse. "I'm sorry!"_

_It was a mantra that became nonsensical as it escaped his trembling mouth. His eyes threatened to split. His heart threatened to break. He felt the gushing of in his veins become frantic and frenzied. But China gently placed his two wide hands on Japan's frail shoulders and leaned down slightly, to match his little height. His soft smile, gentle and understanding and patient, broke him a little more._

"_I know it was an accident, aru. You didn't mean it."_

_The words shocked him. Japan twisted away and took a sharp step back, eyes wide and lips gnawed. His arms tightened around his chest like choking chains. Hot tears, prickling and painful, oozed from his red-rimmed eyes. _

_China looked slightly hesitant, but he masked it._

"_You didn't mean it, aru."_

_Japan couldn't stifle his sob. It left his mouth like a traitor, searing his ears as well as that of his bleeding brother's. _

"_You didn't mean it, aru," China pressed softly. "I know you-"_

_The moment he tried to come closer, Japan sprinted. He pushed all the doors and ran out into the open, open fields under the dismal, dismal skies. He ran, his bare feet plunging into viscous mud and jagged stones until, like the blood from China's arm, his soles began to bleed. Only when his little lungs could breath no quicker and all the energy had been sucked out of his muscles did he collapse, splattering mud on his knees, his hands gripping the hair on his head. _

_Terrified. _

_He felt terrified. _

_It was a game. A game with swords. Practice. An exercise. China was smiling. Was he himself smiling? He couldn't remember. He couldn't feel it. He could only see the blood pouring from the gaping wound- could only see the pouring- could only see the blood-_

_But it wasn't that. _

_That wasn't scary. _

_He was used to blood. He didn't mind it. Blood was fine. Blood was normal. _

_But the pain in his brother's arm- the hiss from the sting in his brother's throat-_

_Japan gripped his head tighter- trying to quell it all in his head-_

_He _had _meant it._

_He felt this tightness in his chest. He felt terrified. He felt scared. _

_He _had_ meant to hurt him. He _did_ mean it._

_He gripped his head. He clenched his teeth. _

_He felt scared._

When he blinked, his vision was bleary. It was as though he was looking through distorted glass- that, or looking through his own tears. He could hear his breathing, heavy and painful, against his ringing ears. He could see lights spot his vision before black lines danced before his lids.

_He watched the steam rise from the ancient wok, and could almost hear the bubbling of the saline water as the rice simmered. He fidgeted, shifted from toe to toe, and wrung his little fingers. He debated with himself as he watched China cook, and felt an ongoing battle being waged inside him. So caught up in his bitterly clashing thoughts, he didn't notice his brother come towards him a place a gentle hand on his hand._

"_Why so troubled, aru?" China smiled. "Go play outside, dinner's not ready yet."_

"_I don't want to play outside," he mumbled. _

_He immediately chastised himself. He felt babyish and immature. _

'_Toughen up,' he heard himself say. 'Don't act like a child.' _

_But China only chuckled and went back to the simmering rice while Japan went back to his internal struggle. He couldn't control those little feelings that wanted to creep out of his heart, but, at the same time, he forced himself to exert a self-control that would mask his emotions. He couldn't let his feelings overtake him. It was dishonorable. It was juvenile. He had to be stronger. He had to reign himself in. He had to take control. He had to mask it. He had to-_

"_I hate them!" he exclaimed and, to his utter horror, angry tears streamed down his face. "I hate all of them!"_

_China came towards him, concerned, but Japan backed away and crossed his arms around himself. He wanted to cause a fuss. He wanted to be difficult. He had so much pent inside his little being that he couldn't contain it. It shattered out of him. _

"_Shh, it's alright, aru-"_

"_No!" he jerked away from China's hands. "No!"_

_His eyes were burning and he couldn't see anything beyond the tears. Only when his angry sobs became uncontrollable did he relent. China gathered him into his arms and Japan threw his little body against him. He clutched his brother's soft shirt with tiny, trembling fingers and dug his face into his brother's shoulders with desperation. He was hurt. Inside, he was very hurt. There was a burning scratch inside him that was never going to heal. _

_China rubbed his back soothingly and murmured._

"_I-I h-hate all of-f them!" he cried. _

"_No you don't, aru."_

"_Y-yes, I do! All of-f t-them!"_

_He had been walking around the paddy fields, alone… as he usually was. It was gaping, his loneliness, leaving this void inside him. He was always alone. But he heard laughter and, when he looked around, he found Im Yong Soo and his twin brother playing. He bristled, apprehensive. They ran circled around each other, their young faces radiant, before South caught him watching and stopped. His brother bumped into him, they giggled for a bit, before both of them stared at him. _

_He felt nervous. Their eyes bored into him, scanning him from head to toe. He felt belittled._

_Slowly, South whispered something in his brother's ear, eyes never leaving Japan's, and both twins started to snigger. Their laughter was caustic. They said something about him. They were laughing at him. He flushed. Immediately, he turned on his heel and ran. He couldn't mask his frustration. He couldn't mask his anger. He burst out of propriety and self-control._

_China wiped the tears from his eyes but Japan could hold back his heavy frown. _

"_Ignore them, aru," huffed China. "That Yong Soo, always causing trouble…" China cupped his cheek. "You don't need them, aru. You've got me," when Japan looked up he could see a small, playful smile on China's face. "And between you and me, aru, you're my favourite out of them all."_

_Japan felt his lips part. China patted him on the head. The rice simmered. The steam rose. Clouds began to hide the setting sun. Impulsively, Japan dashed away from the kitchen, his soft feet padding against the cool wooden panels, until he could see both Koreas making their way towards the house. They caught sight of him and stopped. Before they could do or say anything, Japan visibly and purposely scanned them from head-to-toe and stuck his chin up before giving them his back with blatant arrogance. _

_Though he couldn't see it, he could feel their outrage. _

_He smiled._

He tried blinking, but his vision was still blurry. His arms felt like lead. His head throbbed. He was bathed in this instilled silence that was deafening yet, at the same time, welcoming. When he could feel a tingling in his fingers he tried opening his eyes once more, cringing from the painful light, before concentrating on the whiteness of the ceiling.

"Kiku?"

The voice was muffled, as though someone had filled his ears with cotton.

"Kiku?"

"_Kiku!" her voice was sweet. "Want to go to the river? I want to count the colours of the fish!"_

_She took his hand before he could answer and pulled him along with her. _

_But he didn't mind._

_He liked her. She was nice and she was really pretty. She was gentle, happy and said nice things that made him warm. She didn't prick him with his words and he never felt apprehensive with her. He liked Mei. She was sweet. She was a girl. He liked her very much._

_So he we went with her, hand-in-hand, and let her chatter on happily about whatever she liked. He liked listening to her voice. It was like wind chimes. _

"_All the girls in the city are wearing purple scarves around their shoulders," she said as they sat by the stream, their feet submerged into the cool banks, "I really want one! And some golden flowers in my hair as well! But older brother said I'm too young to think about things like that. It's not fair."_

"_You can live with me," he said quietly, "and then you can have whatever you want."_

_Taiwan blinked at him before laughing. It sounded like giggling streams. "But we already live together, silly!"_

"_Not forever."_

_Her laughter faltered but her smile fell. There was innocent confusion in her eyes._

"_But we're a family," she said. "We have to live together."_

_Korea's not my family, he wanted to say bitterly. Both of them could rot for all he cared. Them and their accusing eyes. Them and their stupid language that he could _never_ understand no matter how hard he tried. Them and their idiotic laughter, their smug smiles and their teasing pranks that he couldn't stomach. _

"_We won't grow if we stay here," he said._

"_Yes we will!" she said determinedly. "I grew a little bit since last month! I marked it in older brother's bedroom!" _

_He wasn't going to stay, he thought as he looked at Taiwan's pleading face. He was going to leave at some point. Maybe not now, but definitely in the future. He was going to leave China and was going back to his own land. He was going to grow, become stronger, become richer and become greater. He wasn't going to let anyone hold him back. He wasn't going to let anyone belittle him- anyone depreciate him- anyone patronize him. _

_But he didn't say that to her. _

_She stood up, "let's play under the trees," she pointed to the distance. "I want to see all the flowers!"_

_He followed her but made sure to take her hand. He wasn't going to let go of her. He liked her. He didn't feel so lonely when he was with her. _

"Kiku? Are you awake?"

It was a warm voice. He tried to speak but his throat was parched. He sputtered. He could taste blood in the back of his dry throat.

"Wait, I'll get you some water…"

Footsteps tapped away…

_Xiang was small and he was being dragged. His face was a canvas of utter confusion and his eyes were windows of open panic. He kept looking over his shoulder as he was being pulled away by the haughty, arrogant, sauntering stranger with wheat-yellow hair and unnatural green eyes. _

The water was cold against his numb lips. He didn't think he could swallow.

_Vietnam was strong. He admired his sister. She lived sternly and spoke wisely. She reared and cultivated her own land with her own hands and sweat. He respected her._

A soft towel was placed between his lips and he slowly sucked the cool liquid. It dripped down his throat, tantalizingly painful, but slowly began to soothe the irritated, raw skin.

_But then, her rebellions were crushed. Her voice was lost amidst the thick dense wilderness of her land. Apparently, she spoke French now. Apparently, she bowed because of the iron boot on her back. _

"Kiku?" a warm whisper. A warm hand on his. "Are you awake? Does anything hurt?"

Yes… something hurt. Something was hurting very much.

_He didn't remember what they were arguing about. They always argued anyway. They were always fighting. Always at each other's throats. Their childhood in China's small house had consisted of scratches, sharp words and glowers across the dinner table. But, this time, he didn't remember what he had said but he did remember Korea who, instead of lashing out as usual, burst into tears. _

_Korea rarely cried. But, when he did, it made Japan both satisfied yet guilty, torn between running after him and staying put. _

"Do you want me to call the nurse? I can call the nurse but I really don't want to be because we might not be together and I really want us to be together," the whispering warmth continued. It felt like warm sun breaking through the dense clouds. Japan could blink out of the blurriness of his gaze. He focused slightly. The picture was hazy. The face was clearing up.

Italy.

Feliciano.

"You're not deaf, are you?" Italy's eyes widened slightly, his whispering edged with panic.

Japan tried to shake his head before Italy would burst into frantic hysteria. He didn't need that now. He needed the calm.

"Oh good," Italy sighed. He looked weary. There were rings under his eyes. He looked tired. He looked relieved. "You've been sleeping a lot. Are you sure it's ok if I don't call a nurse? I don't want to call a nurse now."

He didn't feel like talking to anyone. He couldn't. He felt exhausted. He felt weary. He felt depressed. He simply lolled his head to the side, all his weight against the fluffed pillow, and stared out the grey window. For once, Italy said nothing. His hand simply tightened around Japan's.

They were warm hands- hands exposed to Roman suns, bright summers and sultry afternoons. But, they weren't soft hands. They were scared and marred. If they were any closer, Japan would definitely be able to smell the blood that stained those warm, loving hands. They did come closer eventually, brushing the hair that pricked his eyes. He could smell the blood of massacred people and the tears of howling widows. It wasn't fresh. It was aged and rotting on Italy's sultry skin, like a rash that would never heal.

"I think Germany's really tired," said Italy softly. He was all soft tones and hushed whispers. He was quite weighed down. His smile was exhausted. "When I woke up he was sleeping which is really weird because I always wake up after him and I never wake up before him, right?" Japan said nothing. "I think I should let him sleep. He didn't sleep for a long time. I don't want to wake him. I think he's scary to wake up, right? Do you wake up before Germany sometimes?" Italy's voice waited. "I think you do. You always wake up crazy early, right? You do a weird dance thing outside the room before the sun comes up. That's really crazy. You're so funny Japan. Do you want me to call a nurse? Are you not feeling well? Are you going to vomit? Is that why you're not talking to me- because you're scared you're going to vomit all over me? That's really bad- I think I should call a nurse-"

"No-" he croaked. He coughed.

"Ok!" Italy chirped. "That's good because I want us three to stay together for a little while longer! If a nurse comes she might tell Germany and me to leave and I don't want to leave because I want us to stay together, right? Also, the nurses here aren't very pretty."

Germany was sitting by the doorway. If it wasn't for his closed eyes he would've looked perfectly awake. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and his back was as straight as a rod. His head didn't even droop to the side.

"Kiku?" Italy's voice was soft once more. "I'm sorry," suddenly, he sounded as though he was on the verge of tears. "Close your eyes. You should sleep again."

_He wasn't a child anymore. He wasn't in his soft kimono and sandals. He didn't run through the paddy fields or out into the open Chinese terrace. That was centuries ago. That was years ago. That was insignificant. _

_He stalked down the hallways of the grandeur of his house, sword strapped to his lithe waist, buttons glinting on his haughty Imperial uniform. His footsteps were echoed by the quick steps of Taiwan who this time, walked behind him rather than in front of him. He stopped, turned, and saw her panting slightly. He took her soft hand in his and she looked up at him in surprise. She was still so small. She would always be small to him. _

_He smiled at her- just at her- and continued to move forwards. She followed soundlessly._

_He led her to her new room. _

"_It's all yours."_

_The silk beddings, the fine wooden dressing tables, the grand draping curtains, the opulent bottles of luscious perfumes, the brand new gowns that hung off silver hangers, the scented candles that wavered in the corners like soft prayers- all of it. Mei ambled in, taking in the sight of the room and letting her fingers run over the smooth surfaces. She turned to look at him and bowed._

"_Thank you so much."_

_Though she smiled, there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. But, they caught sight of something on her bed. A purple scarf and golden flowers for her hair. She pressed her lips and looked away. Japan watched her. She bowed once more, her smile wider but her eyes sadder, and thanked him again. _

_He left her to rest. The journey from Taipei had been long. However, he stopped as he walked down the hall and turned back to stand by her door. Behind the thin wood he could hear her crying. Beyond the dark hallway he could feel Korea seething. Across the sea that split them apart, he could feel China crumbling. _


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Hello everyone! Thank you so, so much for all the reviews, alerts and favourites! Seeing how loved this story is, is definitely a motivational boost! _

_This chapter… is slightly different. In my first few drafts, the Axis took over about two… three little paragraphs, maybe? Now… they've conquered the entire chapter. Axis dominated. I have no idea how. __Fair warning: it's my first time writing Germany so I'm a bit uneasy on how I portrayed his character. Really hope I made him out ok. Also, there is a slight warning on language._

_I was asked about the relationship of Taiwan and Japan in the story and, my idea is: if you ship it, you ship it you don't, and then you don't xD So, there isn't any pairing per se in my Very Asian series since I'm focusing more on the family element of it all hence, it's all up to your interpretation! But, historically, Japan did _favour_ Taiwan over his other colonies- almost like the 'jewel' of his empire. She was_ the_ ideal colony. So, he did like her quite a lot. (Personally, I think that Taiwan likes Japan, but he regards her as a little sister, making her blind to Hong Kong, who really likes her... but that's just a silly slightly non-historical headcannon that makes me happy). _

_And yeah! Promise for more Asians in the next chapter! They should be on their way :D_

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**A Very Asian Family**

* * *

He didn't know how many bones he had broken, and frankly he didn't really care. He stared out of the grey window as the nurse spoke and left it up to Germany- who stood at the alert, listening aptly to the petite nurse with the intensity of a war general- to undertake.

He had woken up around midnight. This time, he wasn't suspended in this limbo of the past and the present. This time, he had thrust himself above the thrashing ocean of memories and sucked in the savage airs of reality. Italy was sleeping on the side of his bed, head thrown into his arms, and Germany hadn't moved from his position at the doorway. But his eyes were open. He noticed Japan's stirrings and immediately called for the doctors.

Not before standing awkwardly by the doorway, slightly uneasy, _I hope you're feeling well._

His leg was shattered; his face was bruised. But that didn't compare to this gaping wound inside his chest. It felt as though something inside him had broken. It wasn't going to fix itself and he surely wasn't going to bother. He felt exhausted.

They spoke little with him, Italy and Germany, and if they did, it was about random inane things like the weather, the last world meeting, European jokes, the amount of work that was piling up (Germany) or the pretty women that were walking about (Italy). It was like walking on eggshells and he could hear the pieces crack every time they talked. It was shrouded in a weighty silence.

"Don't worry about your house, we took good care of it!" Italy chirped as he helped Japan off the bed. _Empty_ days had passed. He was allowed to leave the hospital. "I made sure to stock up your fridge with pastas and pizzas and ciabattas and wines and risottos and gelatos and tiramisu's and lasagnas-"

"Italy," Germany reprimanded. "We do not talk our heads-off with the patient!"

"Yes sir!" Italy saluted.

But, he let go of Japan as he did that. Hence, the imbalanced Japanese tumbled to the floor-

"_Ahhhhhh- _I'm sorry I dropped you Japan! You didn't break your back, did you?! Please don't die- I'm so sorry! Mi dispiaci! Non si muore! Mi dispiaci-"

"Verdamnt! How many times do I have to tell you-"

"I'm sorry Japan! I'm so sorry- I'm sorry Germany! Please don't hit me, I didn't meant to throw him- I don't know what to do! Japan, don't die-"

Germany lifted Japan off the floor- his leg was _exploding_ with pain- while Italy panicked hysterically, his flushed face on the verge of tears.

"I didn't mean to hurt him! No, Japan, don't cry! I'm so sorry!" Italy's worried, flushed face was suddenly up close, beseeching, "I'm sorry- don't cry, don't cry-" it was like a mother begging her child. "I'm sorry," his voice was softer. His voice was sadder, "Mi dispiaci, I won't do it again. Prometto- it was an accident, ok?"

"I-I'm, I'm alright," Japan forced out. He was sitting again, the ache in his leg subsiding. He questioningly looked at Italy's pained face then, when he turned to look at Germany, he found the larger man looking away. Bringing a shaky hand to his face, he found his cheeks silently stained with tears.

"_I'm sorry! I'm s-sorry!"_

"_Hush, aru. It's alright, it's just a scratch-"_

"_No! I-I'm sorry! I- I-"_

Japan wiped them away fiercely.

* * *

Germany drove while Italy sat in the backseat with Japan. Japan leant against the window, watching the buildings and people pass by under a regular rain of cherry blossoms. Italy chattered non-stop at first before Germany forced him to shut up- thankfully, since Japan didn't think his head could take it anymore- bathing them in an odd silence that was regularly interrupted by: _Can we talk now? _Suddenly, his phone burst into a cacophonous ringtone-

"Ciao, fratello~!"

Romano's voice exploded.

"_Don't 'ciao fratello' me, you fucking imbecile! Where the fuck did you go?! I had to come back from Spain's house to find the house empty and now, I'm fucking alone, you bastard! This is all your fault!"_

"Wha?! Lovino, I didn't-"

"_Shut up! I fucking hate your face and I hope you never come back!" _

"Wait- don't be angry-"

"_Chiudi il becco, bastardo__ -"_

With an angry clatter, the phone went dead. Italy blinked at it before his face scrunched up. His eyes were brimming and he looked ready to wail-

The phone rang again.

"Fratello-"

"_Come back right now, you fucking bastard! Right now! Che palle- "_

The phone went dead. Japan blinked at it, then at Italy's distraught face, then at Germany's exasperated face.

The phone rang again.

"Fratell-"

"_You jerk- you left me all alone without telling me! What the fuck is wrong with you, you're such a fucking idiot and I hope you rot! Dammit, what's wrong with you? What if I get killed at night, eh? What are you going to do then?! I fucking hate you! I know you're with that stupid potato-eater- I'm so going to fucking beat you up! Che cazzo, you and that ugly kraut! I hope you never come back-"_

"Romano- I'm sorry, please stop crying-"

But Romano launched into rapid, hysterical Italian. In mere seconds, he was literally screeching and wailing his head off while Italy began sobbing frantically, maniacally waving his arms around. Japan could only stare at the display while Germany irately watched from the rearview mirror.

Suddenly, Romano's loud voice was cut as the phone went dead.

"Finally," Germany gave a sigh of relief.

Italy stared at his phone, his cheeks tearstained, glumly. A few seconds passed. A few minutes. Japan began to relax once more. It seemed as though Romano wasn't going to call back-

The phone rang.

"_You're fucking useless, so I'm going to call Spain! Don't you dare come back or else, I'm going to fucking kill you! I hate you, Feliciano!"_

"No Lovino, I'm sorry! Don't! Japan was almost dying so I had to go to him!"

"_I don't care if Grandpa Rome came back from the fucking dead and fucking begged you to go see him- so shut up! Shut up! Don't call me again!"_

"Lovino, wait! Don't cry-"

"_I'm not fucking crying-"_ but his high-pitched voice definitely proved he was. "_I fucking hate you and I hope you never come back because you're so useless, and everything fucked up in this world is all your damned fault!"_

"But I'm coming back this week-"

"_I hope I never see your stupid face! Leaving me alone in the fucking house without telling me-"_

"Lovino! I'm so sorry-"

"_I don't fucking want your sorry! What the fuck am I going to do with your stupid sorry-?"_

"Fratello-"

"_I don't want to be your brother anymore!"_

Italy gasped- devastated, _"_You don't mean that?!"

"_Of course I don't fucking mean it, you fucking idiot! What are you? Stupid?! If you get hurt when I'm not there I'm going to fucking kill that stupid potato! Don't you dare get hurt or I'll beat you up!"_

"I won't. I'll take care," Italy sniffled.

"_You fucking will!" _Romano threatened. "_Or else! Don't call me again!"_

"Ciao, fratello_. _Ti voglio bene -"

"_Whatever."_

The phone went dead.

It rang again.

"_Ti voglio molto bene."_

The phone went dead. Italy beamed. It rang again. Japan wanted to throw himself out the window. Germany slammed a hand against the wheel.

"_Don't fucking call me again! You annoyed me so much!"_

The phone went dead. A few silent minutes passed.

"That was Romano," Italy explained, smiling. "He called to check up on me." He looked at the dreary faces of his friends. "He says hello."

Japan didn't bother faking a smile. Germany rubbed his temples.

* * *

"Bed sheets?"

"Done!"

"Cleaned the room?"

"Done!"

"Transferred all the clothes form his upstairs bedroom to the room he will currently occupy on the ground floor due to his incarcerated leg?"

"Uhh…" Italy looked lost.

"Answer!"

"Uh- y-yes!" Italy stammered, his saluting hand shaking. "I… think?"

"Italians," muttered Germany. "Is dinner ready? A frequent replenishing of sustenance is vital to a full recovery."

Italy skipped past him; "we're having Bolognese tonight! Hey, Japan!" Italy bellowed across the hall, "do you want mozzarella or parmesan on your pasta?"

"Don't scream in the house!" Germany roared.

"I'm sorry!" Italy shrieked, "Don't get angry- I'm really sorry!"

"Italy! Quiet!"

"But then why are you screaming too?!"

Italy's phone burst into its cacophonous ringtone.

"It must be fratello again!"

Japan wilted in his seat as the throbbing in his head multiplied. With Italy singing as he ran from room-to-room, Italy fluttering around him, Italy begging him to get a wheelchair so he could push him down hills, Italy annoying Germany who would bellow at the small Italian with a voice that made an avalanche sound like a whisper, Japan found it hard to even hear himself _think_. Then there was Italy's ridiculously loud ringtone and Romano's ludicrously loud voice…

"I'm sorry about him," sighed Germany who walked into the living room. "I've told him a thousand times-"

"No, it's alright," Japan replied. He could hear a rapid stream of Italian from the adjacent room, "it's… better than complete silence."

Because if it were a complete silence… then he _would_ be able to think… and he didn't really want to think. Not really. Germany looked at him oddly- it wasn't something Japan usually said- but he said nothing nonetheless.

He didn't eat much at dinner so he excused himself and tried to crutch his way back to his room, which had been relocated to the ground floor since he couldn't really take the stairs. But, an enthusiastic Italy exuberantly assisted him- to Japan's dread- while Germany overlooked them like a general overseeing the distribution of arms. The guest room he was to occupy was filled not only with his own belongings- such as a few extra clothes and his pillow- but with the belongings of the two European nations as well. He spotted Italy's eruption of clothes at the corner by the window and Germany's neat suitcase, prim and proper, by the closet.

"Because we're all sleeping together! Like we always do!" Italy exclaimed as he pushed Japan to the bathroom. Italy's phone began ringing. "It's fratello!"

With that, he immediately dashed away, leaving Japan to grab hold onto _anything_ for dear life before he would slam against the cold, wooden floor. However, Germany was suddenly supporting him before he bellowed Italy's name.

"Ciao fratello! Non ti sento da tantissimo tempo-"

"It's alright, Germany-san," Japan rebalanced himself on his crutch, "I should be fine."

Germany pulled out a small black button-of a sort from his pocket and handed it to Japan.

"This is a buzzer," he said sternly. "Press it and I'll be notified. That way, if anything dangerous happens, I'll be able to assist you at once."

Japan took the small device and eyed it with curiosity_. The design isn't very sophisticated_ he thought, _and the wiring inside it quite outdated_… he felt something inside him shrivel under Germany's severe gaze. He shook the scrutiny off his expression and gave a appreciate bow, "_Hai_, thank you very much, Germany-san. I appreciate all your help and apologize for any inconvenience I have caused."

"If you're an inconvenience then, pray tell, what is he?" he jerked his head to where Italy was currently babbling, pacing around the bedroom, his hands wildly gesticulating.

Japan could only smile slightly. He felt slightly warmer now. When he finished washing up he had Italy help him into his kimono while Germany was apparently 'inspecting the premises' to make sure they were safe.

"There you go, Japan!" Italy threw Japan's old clothes over his shoulder- Japan cringed at the mess- and fluttered around the bed, pulling out the sheets and smoothening the duvet. "This is really fun isn't it, all three of us together! It's been so long since we did this, right? Do you want to stay up and tell scary stories? Oh, remember that time on the beach when we made a fire and we roasted marshmallows? Can we do that now? Do you have marshmallows in Japan?"

"Italy-kun," Japan settled against the pillows, "we can't make a fire in the room."

"Oh right," he slumped slightly. "Hey, Japan?" Italy sat on the bed. Japan wearily eyed his plastered leg that was centimeters from getting sat on. "Do you think… I'm a bad person?"

Japan blinked at the sudden, unexpected question. "No Italy-kun," he replied. "You're a very good person."

"Really?"

"_Hai_."

"Oh."

Japan tried to meet the Italian's eyes, but Feliciano kept them at his fingers that drew invisible patterns on the sheets.

"Italy-kun? Are you alright?"

"I don't think I'm a good person," he said quietly.

Japan hated this: this awkward period where he had no idea what to say or do. He looked away uneasily and hoped that Italy would just perk out of this mood as he usually did. He wouldn't mind if Romano called for another ranting conversation that literally bounced off the thin walls of Japan's house.

"I… I don't think I'm a very good brother," Italy drew his knees up to his chest. He looked like a child. "I always make Romano so angry."

Japan almost laughed with relief. Instead, he relaxed slightly against the pillows. Romano getting angry was nothing new. He didn't know what Italy was so sad about anyway. "Italy-kun-"

"Because before I came here Romano was really angry and we had a big fight, and it was really bad because he was really mean, and then I said something and he got really angry and he cried a lot, and then he went to Spain and said he never wanted to see me again because I'm always causing trouble, but then I didn't like that because I don't always cause trouble, so I went to him because he's my big brother and I really love him, but he was really angry and he started blaming Germany because he doesn't like Germany, but I really like Germany because he's my best friend, but Romano wouldn't listen and he said that I was stupid because I listened to what Germany said in the war when Germany was really scary and I was scared, but my Boss said it would be good for Italy and that we might see Grandpa Rome again, but then I did really bad things to everyone and I never listened to Romano and I started to hurt him when he tried to stop me because I was really bad and I killed a lot of people, and Germany was going crazy and I didn't know what to do and then-" Italy sucked in a breath. Japan was as pale as a ghost. "I'm so sorry Japan! I know I shouldn't talk about this because you had a big fight with your family about the war-" slapped. Japan felt slapped, "and Germany told me I couldn't talk about it because it would make you really sad but then when he told me I started to remember the war, and the Risorgimento and then I remembered all the other bad things I did and I felt really bad and I couldn't sleep a lot-" Italy's eyes were brimming with tears, "I'm so sorry! I'm so stupid- I- I'm making everything worse- I- it's just that my hands always smell like blood and it makes my heart hurt inside."

Italy threw his head into his hands. He was murmuring now but it was in Italian. He was murmuring now and, truly, Japan didn't want to hear another word. Those words were like needles in his ear.

"I'm so sorry," Italy continued, "Germany told me not to talk about it at all but I couldn't stop myself. Germany wouldn't listen to me because I know he doesn't like listening about the war and it makes him really sad which is really scary because a sad Germany is really weird…" Italy reached out for Japan's hand, "you're my second best friend and I… I'm such a bad friend, right?"

Japan could barely hear what Italy was saying. By the time the words registered in his brain he had enough energy to shake his head slightly and mutter a feeble 'no'. Italy sniffled.

* * *

He didn't sleep at all.

The clock flashed 3 am and Japan lethargically sighed. Italy slept next to him while Germany was on the other side, next to the Italian. Initially, Italy tossed and turned and tossed and turned until Germany forcefully woke him up and threatened to throw him out. Eventually all the wailing wore the Italian out who then slept motionlessly through the night. Germany slept soon after that, his measured breaths more placid, but Japan, for the life of him, couldn't even keep his eyes closed long enough.

He would've gone for a walk around his garden- that usually cleared his insomnia- but his cursed, plastered leg stopped him. He shifted against the pillows and looked at the sleeping Italy, whose face was wiped of any previously wailed worries. He looked innocent. So innocent. He looked frail. He looked… pure. He was pure. Despite the insanity that had gripped him in the past, despite the hysteria, despite the blood and despite all the ghastly details of his gruesome history… Feliciano was pure.

Kiku could never be like that.

"Germany-san?" He noticed the German's eyes that were bright in the darkness.

"Why haven't you slept?" Japan felt a childish fear run through him, as if he was being told-off by his mother.

"I tried."

"Try harder," Germany pulled up the sheets to cover the Italian's shoulders. "If he kicks me one more time…" but Italy yawned, turned on his side and curled up like a cat. Germany looked at his sleeping face before he studied Japan who, underneath that steely gaze, felt bare. "Did he… talk about…?"

Japan deflated. He gave a shuddering, heavy sigh. "Yes."

He could hear the night ticking in the dim, dim room.

"I've told him a thousand times," Germany shook his head. He settled back against the pillows, "At least twenty before we went into your room. Does anything get through his thick skull, I wonder?"

"It's alright," _no it wasn't_, but Japan said it anyway.

Germany watched the empty ceiling. "You should've pressed the buzzer."

Japan cracked a smile and he could hear Germany give an amused laugh. Italy curled into himself, muttering something under his breath, before suddenly stretching. His hand almost hit Germany's face but definitely hit Japan's chest. Italy scooted closer to Germany, searching for something above the covers.

"He seemed very upset."

"Ja… it'll pass over tomorrow morning. He usually gets like this when he overthinks things."

Japan folded his fingers. He twiddled his thumbs. He couldn't sleep.

"You know," Germany began tentatively, "we all... we all never forgot."

"But your families forgive you," Japan said softly. "Mine do not."

"That's because Feliciano begged for forgiveness," Germany's smile was sad. "And I had my dignity stripped before everyone thought I was humane enough to be forgiven." Japan didn't look up from his fingers, be he didn't stop listening. He could hear Germany settle back against the covers once more, shifting slightly. "We all have to sacrifice something."

"They won't forget."

"No one does."

"I did it…" he bit his lip. "I did it for my people."

"We all did."

"I'm not a bad person."

"You're not."

_Then why did he feel it?_

"How many corpses did England build his Empire on?" Germany said softly. "How many civilizations did Spain wipe out? How many people did France torture? How many did America destroy? Or Russia? How many did I…" a cold breath. "We all did it for our people. We did what we thought was right… what we hoped was right, even if it was far from right. The world isn't 'good' or 'bad'… it's bigger than that."

Then why did they want a proclamation of an apology? Why were they so adamant about that? Why were they so rigid and so inflexible? Why couldn't they just see things the way they were- put them into context- and just live on?

"Before you're a nation, remember, that you are also a person."

Remember that you were, also, a small boy than ran through green terraces and felt the wet paddy fields between his toes. Remember that you were, also, that young boy that watched the stars endlessly through the night and curled beside the warm body of a person who cared for you. Remember that you were, also, a young man that listened to the trickling streams and set dumplings on the dinner table for _her_ to smile at. Remember that you were, also, that soldier who hurt _them_ because of a pent up anger that ate through you since the days the towered cities were bare of stone.

Germany said nothing after that. Italy tossed and turned. Japan didn't sleep at all.

* * *

_Quick Translations:_

_Mi dispiaci: I'm sorry_

_No si mouro: Don't die_

_Prometto: I promise. _

_Che cazzo: Fuck you!_

_Che palle: What balls_

chiudi il becco: Shut up/Shut your mouth

_Ti voglio (molto) bene: I love you (a lot). _

_Non ti sento da tantissimo tempo: Haven't heard from you in a long time…_

_Quick notes:_

_Italy's history is __bloody__. He isn't as cute and cuddly as he seems xD Italy was once a bunch of small states and their unification (famously called the Risorgimento) was bathed in blood. Also, during World War 2, Italy had it's fair share of horrific war crimes (and let's not forget that it housed a number of concentration camps ) against its enemies and, also, against its own people. During the war, half the Italians wanted to stay allied with Germany and the other half didn't like the Germans. Then their boss, Mussolini, got overthrown while the country was plagued by a Civil War in the MIDDLE of the WW2. Insane? I think so. _

_Hence, Italy went through an EXTREMELY insane and unbalanced time and, till this very day, it isn't very stable (lots of economic problems,political problems, corruption etc etc). But he's still smiling, bless him :') Guess despite all the white flags, he's a strong little guy on the inside. _

_Nutshell: Italy, as a character, is super interesting. _

_Anyway, enough with the babbling- hope this chapter was good enough! I'd really love to hear what you think! _


	3. Chapter 3

**A Very Asian Family**

* * *

They left. Their flight was at dawn and Japan escorted them down the pathway and waved as they drove away in the airport-rented taxi. He walked back inside and made himself a kettle of hot green tea only to acknowledge the unbelievable weight of the loneliness of his house. He left the green tea on the table. He tried to sleep.

_He could see himself standing in the middle of an open terrace of green. The perfumed grass tossed and turned with the cool breeze and the sound of the faraway trees echoed a gushing spring. In the distance was a house- small yet warm- of bamboo- pale yet sturdy- and, impulsively, he started walking towards it. Subconsciously, he knew he was going home. _

_But every time he took a step forward, it felt like he was going backward. Every time he pushed ahead, he felt as if he was being pulled away. His steps got heavier and his breaths became exhausted pants. There was searing pain running up his legs and burning his arms. It was becoming smaller- the house- it was becoming smaller-_

"_Wait!" his voice was a devastated whisper. "No- wait-"_

_China was standing by the house, red silk draping his ancient skin. His dark eyes bored into him._

"_China-"_

_China kept staring. He didn't move. _

"_Please-"_

_He was on his knees. He was trying to crawl. Something was pulling him back. Something was pulling him away. Mud caked his knees and splattered across his arms. He couldn't breathe. The house was getting smaller. The airs were getting thicker. Humid. _

_Rain._

_A light shower at first before it became fatter. It stank. It smelt like rotting flesh. It felt warm. It felt sticky. It was blood. _

_Kiku stopped struggling and he brought his hands to his face- blood. Blood rain splattered from the blackening skies. They marred his skin. He tried wiping it away but it stained. He tried scratching it off but the blemish only got darker. It started bulging- oozing- like black, black boils-_

_Slit._

_Cockroaches. Tiny black cockroaches scampered maniacally over his skin- their spiky legs tapping- crawling- crawling- tap- tap- tap- their little hairs waving wildly- pincers digging into his flesh- black and frantic and tiny-_

He thrust out of bed- hands frantically scratching over his sweating skin- heart hammering- breaths tightened- chest shattering-

Nightmare- just a nightmare- just a-

He panted. His leg began to throb. He fell. He leaned against the wall. He panted. His hands were shaking. His nose was clogged. His skin was sticky with sweat. He panted. He panted.

* * *

He touched the plasters on his face numbly.

His phone buzzed on the kitchen table. He slowly shuffled his way towards it-

His stomach tightened.

Hong Kong.

He felt a slight tremble in his fingers.

He went to get a glass of water. His phone flashed once more. The glass wasn't steady in his hands. The water rippled. His phone flashed again. His fingers wouldn't hold. He took a sip, turned around, and then stopped. He made his way to the phone, picked it up and threw it in the bin.

* * *

A few days later he started to get accustomed to the weight of his plastered leg. A few days later and his house phone began to ring. Italy had raided his phone for the past few days- calling him every five seconds for no reason at all- so, he _idiotically_ reached for it without even _thinking_ about the possibility that it could actually be-

"_Why don't you answer your mobile? I've been calling you for days!"_

Japan blinked. "Vietnam-san?"

"_Who else would it be?" _she hissed. She went silent and Japan could hear her counting under her breath. When she was back on the line, she sounded calmer, "_Japan. Doing well?"_

"Uh… yes. Thank you."

"_Good," _she cleared her throat. Japan knew exactly what was going to follow. "_I heard about what happened in Thailand's house. Taiwan told me."_

Japan said nothing.

"_Before I take any decision, I want to hear your side of the story."_

"I appreciate your concern, but I do not wish to discuss-"

"_We're going to discuss this topic right now and that's final!" _Japan pushed the phone away from his ringing ear. He winced. _"We're family! We had rifts before and we're not going to have rifts again! Do you understand-"_

"_Hey Vietnam!" _a cheery voice rang in the background of the phone call. "_Watcha doo~in?"_

"_Uhm-uh- nothing," she spluttered. "I mean- uh-"_

"_Wanna go out for lunch? There's this awesome place near Santa Monica that has the best hamburgers-"_

"_I-I'm on the phone, maybe later on-"_

"_Yeah, but I'm hungry!"_

"_Later!"_

"_Aw, why not-"_

"_Because I'm on the phone, you idiot! How many times am I going to repeat that?!"_

"_You're really pretty when you get angry."_

"_Oh for heaven's sake- I'm on the phone!"_

"_But it's lunchtime!"_

"_Give me a few minutes!" _

"_Oh come on, baby-"_

"_Call me that again and I swear to you, I will slit that tongue!"_

"_Man, you make my heart hammer when you talk like that-"_

"_Shut up!" _Vietnam cleared her throat. "Hello?"

"Is that… America-san?"

He could feel his sister bristle. He could hear the steam blasting out of her ears either from fury or from embarrassment. She said nothing for a few terse seconds before she indignantly started to sputter.

He heard America give a dramatic, excited gasp, "_Is that Japan?!"_

Suddenly, with the force of a herd of stampeding buffaloes, Japan could hear thundering towards the phone. There was a colossal crash- a sharp intake of breath- a chaotic crackling- America's voice boomed, "_JAPAN! It's been ages! How're you doing? I'm doing awesome myself, thanks for asking! I totally wanted to come over last month but my Boss is currently in 'super lame' mode so I had to like, stay in the country and all that sorta crap. Man, it's been like, DECADES!"_

"It's… good to hear from you."

"_Thanks, dude! Any cool new games out yet? I've been completely obsessed with-"_

"_Give me the phone!" _

"_Just a sec- hey, your bro isn't the whole TV-show-protective-brother kinda guy, is he? He doesn't mind you and me and the whole secret romance kinda thing-"_

"_We are not in a secret romance!"_

"_Sure we are! That's what you said-"_

"_I said nothing!"_

"_Yeah you did!" _America chirped happily, "_yesterday, when we were walking down beach you said, open quotations: For now, keep your mouth shut about us so we can make out later, close quotations!"_

Japan flushed.

Vietnam screeched. "_I said so we can 'so we can make things better!' not 'make out'!" _

"_You totally meant make-out," _America disagreed, "_Plus, you made out with me after that anyway-"_

"_Oh God, can you shut up!" _

But America laughed boisterously. There was a sudden clatter and the sound of America yelping in surprise.

"_That's the fourth thing you've thrown at me!"_

Japan could hear Vietnam's stomps, could hear Vietnam's curses, could hear Vietnam slamming a door, could hear more of Vietnam's vicious curses and could hear Vietnam counting under her breath before she finally said, "Hello?"

"So you're with America-san?"

He knew it was tactless, but hey, at least it would take the discussion off him for a good while. Vietnam hissed and, Japan thanked his stars that he wasn't facing her. She would've beaten him senseless for such a casual comment.

"_NO!" _Japan cringed. His ears were definitely ringing. "_Ten- nine- eight- seven- six- five- four-three…" _she sighed. "_We're… being better to each other." _

Japan raised his brows. That was unexpected. "Very friendly, I see."

"_Oh, you little prick_-" she seethed_, "You can be such an annoying twat sometimes-"_

"_Hey, Vietnam!"_

"_WHAT?!" _

"_NOTHING! JUST FELT LIKE SAYING YOUR NAME! IT'S REALLY PRETTY!"_

Was that the sort of thing that swept his sister off her feet?

"I'll call you later."

"Goodbye."

With a clatter, she slammed the phone. Japan listened to the monotonous beeping. What on earth…

* * *

More than a week passed. Italy called him. Germany did as well. He even received an amusing rant from a venting England.

But none from his family.

He didn't know if it hurt or if he had become accustomed to the pain.

Hands in his sleeves, he shuffled towards the front door like the old man he was at heart, head in a daze. The morning paper should be out and the day seemed pleasant enough to sit outside by the maple tree-

Vietnam marched in; paddle slung over her broad shoulders, and stood threateningly in the middle of the hall. It took him a good few seconds to stop blinking, a good few seconds to yank his mind back into his head and a good few seconds to administer that _yes_, his sister really _was_ in the house. She caught his eyes and scowled.

"Tea," she said. "And something sweet. I just came from the airport."

Her paddle slammed against his frail floorboards- he _flinched_ at the noise- before she stomped towards the living room. He begrudgingly slid his front door shut. It was far too early in the morning to deal with his too-independent and too-hardheaded sister. He made her a kettle of tea- thinking of the nice quiet morning that had been stolen from him- and took some out fresh dango he had prepared yesterday.

"What's wrong with your leg?" said Vietnam the moment he stepped into the living room.

"Uh… minor accident."

Did she… not know?

Her severe expression went sour and Japan braced himself for the sharp words that were to ensue.

"I'm not here to listen to lies," she demanded. "What happened?"

"I told you," he set the tray, with slight difficulty, on his low-lying table. "A minor accident."

"Did you try to kill yourself?"

Japan froze, "of course not."

She looked away from him, her expression not as angry as when she first came in. "Good," she leaned over and swatted his hand that was going to pour the tea. "I'll do it."

She poured two cups, the steam rising, and poked at the dango with her tanned fingers, tasting the syrup that specked her fingers.

"I hope your flight was well."

"It was."

"Did you fly in from California?"

It would've been such an innocent question had _he_ not asked it. Vietnam visibly tensed up in front of him- her shoulders scrunching, her brows narrowing, her back bracing- and glared.

"_Yes_," she hissed, "and I'm so jetlagged that I might _murder_." The wooden stick of the dango snapped between her fingers and Japan only thanked heaven's it wasn't his teacup… or his spine. She threw the sticks at the tray and wiped her hand, "where's your stupid phone? Why aren't you answering Taiwan's calls? She's been pestering me instead."

His phone? He could see a faint vision of himself tossing it into the bin ages ago. Vietnam wasn't amused.

"What happened at Thailand's house-"

"I'm not discussing this," he said softly.

"Yes we are-"

"Vietnam-san," he said thickly. "The last time someone forced me to say things I… destroyed everything. So please," he couldn't look at her, "I'd rather not discuss this."

She was intense. Her silence burdened against him. Her mere presence was suffocating.

"I'm not here to blame you." He looked at her, ready to reiterate, "_you're_ not discussing this but _I_ am," and, for the first time, she reached forward and took his hand. She had such rough hands. "I just want to help you."

Affronted, he pulled away. He felt a flush creep up his neck. Help? _Him?_ He didn't need help. His head was gushing with a hiss of sizzling words. He didn't need help. He didn't need pity. He was fine the way he was. He needed no one to take his hand, like a child. He was an Empire. He had been great.

Vietnam looked furious.

"If your damn leg wasn't broken I would've beaten you with the paddle."

"I appreciate your concern," his recited words slipped off his tongue with cold, practiced ease. "But-"

"Right there," she said venomously. "Right there- that's exactly what's your problem." She gripped the table with her strong, marred hands, "_Impersonal," _she spat it like an insult. "_Arrogant_. And _confused."_ He could hear the wood splintering. It was an antique. "I'm not here to talk about trade relations or economic policies- I'm your _sister_. Remember that. Before everything else, I am your sister."

China was his brother, and he had slashed scars down the older nation's back. Korea was his brother, and he had trampled on every ounce of his dignity. Hong Kong was his brother, and he tortured the living daylights out of his skin. Taiwan was his sister…

Taiwan.

"There is no difference," Japan murmured.

"There is a difference- and your proof are those idiots that keep hammering you!" The earlier sunshine of the morning dissipated to the glum covering of rainclouds. "I told you, I am ready to listen to what you have to say because I've already spoken to them-" she caught the bitter twist of his mouth. She paused. She continued. "I've already spoken to them, and I've given Yong Soo a good screaming, Xiang a damn slap-"

"Hong Kong did nothing wrong," he said before he could stop himself. Vietnam stopped, surprised, before a small tiny shadow of a smile lightened her stern features.

"Not to you, perhaps," she said daintily spooning some sugar into her tea, "but the boy's got a lot of cheek- too much cheek- and Yao's too soft with him. As for Yong Soo, well, his actions towards you were disrespectful. You're his older brother and there should be some acknowledgement of that from him," didn't the boiling tea sear down her throat? "But you," her tanned finger aimed at him once more, "should have some _consideration_ for him as well- taking into account what _he's_ suffering from. You don't live alone, Kiku. We're all in this big bad world and you can't walk around not acknowledging other people's problems."

_What about your problems? _He felt the question on the tip of his tongue. _Loitering with America when your burns haven't even healed yet? _But he didn't say it aloud. It would be too brash and too impulsive. He had to keep himself in check. He placed his finely crafted mask of indifference on his poised face and nodded, as was expected of him, and gracefully said, "thank you for your advice," though, really, her words did nothing.

But Vietnam knew him well and she frowned.

Her phone buzzed. She probably was the only person with such a normal ringtone. However, she was the only person who would glance at the phone and chuck it over her shoulder. It didn't shatter, but it slammed against his living room.

"None of your business," she snapped before he even thought about the question he was to ask.

"I wasn't going to ask," he muttered.

She slammed her fist against the wood. He could hear it splintering. It was an _antique._

"Why weren't you?" she demanded.

If he had the liberty, he would've groaned and thrown his head into his hands. But he couldn't. Instead, he merely smiled and looked away, hiding the prickling thoughts in his head. There was a lot he could've asked her and a lot he could've said, but, he didn't He chose to brush it all aside as though it was none of his concern. And it wasn't. It was _her_ choices and he had no say in it, even if he completely and vehemently disapproved- even if she _wanted_ him to completely and vehemently disapprove. He had centuries of silence on his back.

But Vietnam had centuries of oppression and she learnt defiance from it.

He could remember a time when she didn't sit with her shoulders thrown back and her head held high. He could remember a time when she was so defeated it hurt him to even spare her a glance. His eyes landed on her bare forearms, her green sleeves were pushed back to her elbows, and the burnt skin that had yet to heal after the _decades _that had gone by. She noticed his gaze. She didn't hide them. She looked at him questioningly.

He brought his teacup silently to his lips and hid his biting frustration. She knew what he was irritated about. But he wouldn't voice it. She was daring for him to.

"My flight's tomorrow morning, so you better spit out whatever you want to say right now," she slammed her cup against the table- _antique, _woman, it was an _antique-_ and poured herself more tea.

"Are you flying back to Hanoi?" he kept his hands in his sleeves. The skin of his wrists felt cold under his fingertips.

"No," her steely eyes were warning.

"Ho Chi Minh city then?"

"I'm not going home. Not now anyway," she looked slightly weary now. "I'm going to see Hyung-Soo."

He raised his brows.

"Would like me to send him your regards?"

"Of course not," he scoffed.

"Why not?" she said. What was she playing? "How about America? Should I send him your regards? I'm flying to his capital again in two weeks." Japan said nothing. "Because even though Hyung-Soo drugged and killed a few of your people, I recall America _annihilating-"_

"And I recall America _destroying_ everything in your land," he said quietly. "So I see no _sense_ in what you're doing."

"At last!" she exclaimed. "Was that so hard to say to me? It took Xiang five seconds to lash out at me and it takes you _hours_," she shook her head at him. He felt like a reprimanded schoolchild. She poured herself more tea, "be_ direct_. The tea's cold." He motioned to get up, stiff and angular, but she patted his shoulder as she walked towards the kitchen. "And your sweets suck. I'm checking your fridge."

When she came back, she had a tray with a fresh kettle of tea and a plate of panna cotta. Italy had forced his MPs to deliver it to his door yesterday with a cheery note of 'eat it fresh'. Either way, Vietnam said nothing about the sudden appearance of a western dessert in his fridge and proceeded to ritually _slam_ the tray against his table- he could definitely see a crack now- and spooned the cream.

"Why so irritated? I thought you're 'best friends' with America."

"My relations with America are fine-"

"More than fine, actually."

"But I personally believe that you, in particular, should not be… eliciting certain activities with him."

If he didn't know her any better he would've thought she was going to laugh. But Vietnam laughed as rarely as she smiled.

"We're improving our relations," she said, "there's nothing wrong with that. Our trade policies are good and we've opened discussions on a number of different economic schemes. Just like you have."

_But I'm not sitting with America in a bleeding hotel room looking over the sea and taking long walks with him across the beaches in California. _But he didn't say that. "He never apologized for what he did to you."

"No," she didn't falter. She didn't hesitate. "No he didn't." She took a shuddering breath and set down her spoon. She let go of her mask of resilience and looked, at that very second, so _human_. "You know," she said softly, "what's the worst part of it all? When I ask him about what happened between us in the past- for an apology- you know what's the worst part?" she smiled, but it was caustic and bitter and sour. "He says 'I never declared war so, there's nothing to apologize for'."

Japan felt his fingers clench.

"And really… that hurts more than the napalm, the Agent Orange, the bombs," she looked away. "It's like saying those humans that fought for us, fought for nothing."

Shadows hung over the windows, throttling the promising rays of light. There was no rain but there was an uneasy hurling of the wind. Vietnam picked her spoon once more and scooped the creamy dessert. Japan didn't think he could stomach anything.

"He's not a bad person," she eyed him pointedly. "Alfred. He's… not bad. When I'm with him I… I feel human. I can feel _myself_- be Lien instead of Vietnam all the time. With him, I…" she suppressed a sigh, "you get so sick of being a nation sometimes. It's not just the eternity we get to live but it's the… it's the whole 'who we are'…" she shook her head. "America doesn't recognize our war but Alfred does," she pursed her lips. "And that's the reason I like him enough to..."

"So he apologized?" why was everything about a ridiculous apology?

"No," she said. "He _admitted_ his mistakes," her tanned face was sharp. "There's a difference."

He said nothing. She kept her eyes on him. She aimed her spoon at him.

"Do you know why _they_ keep asking you for it? It's not because they hate you, or they want to humiliate you, or they want to weaken you, or break you. It's so they could stop _blaming_ you," she swallowed, "you get so sick of hating people- blaming the people that you really love. It just… gets too lonely." She looked away from him. She looked at her fallen phone. "I can't hate Alfred. I can hate Francis, hell yes, but… not him. He was just... He's good to me. Now. We're good to each other."

It was like the ringing of bells, the rain, before the trees overpowered the softness with the gushing thrashes of their thickly laden branches.

She stood up and brushed the front of her dress. "I have to go. It's getting late and my flight's at dawn. I need to rest."

Japan looked up at her- she looked so tall- and slowly got up, nodding. He felt heavy. "There's a room here if you'd like to stay-"

"No. I already booked a room in a hotel," she slung her paddle over her shoulders. Japan nodded once more. He felt as if all the words had been sucked out of his chest.

"I'll escort you outside. Do you need a taxi?"

"No, I walked here."

Walked? He was on the outskirts of the city. How on earth did she _walk_ here? But he didn't press it- she wore him out- and simply nodded.

"I'd still ready the guest room, though," she said as she marched out of his house. "Xiang should be here tonight."

Japan blanched, "what?"

She waved at him and he stood staring, dumbstruck, his mind trying to process what she had fleetingly thrown at him.

* * *

_AN: Hello :D_

_So, Vietnam and America._

_I know there's a good bunch of people who abhor the idea of them as a couple and a good bunch of people who adore the idea of them as a couple. But, what's interesting about the pair of them is that, despite the horror that was Vietnam War and the atrocities committed… Vietnam is currently one of the most pro-American countries in East Asia, with a majority of its people liking the US (and a lot of them actually living in the States). _

_The Vietnam War was quite famous because of the chemical bombs used by the US (Napalm, Agent Orange) that destroyed forests and burned through people's bones (hence, Lien's scars that haven't healed). But, there was an amazing resistance and an amazing anti-war attitude built up as the war progressed- and as the atrocities were televised. So, whilst the US was still fighting the war, the people back home didn't like it at all. Hence, America was ripped between fighting the Vietnamese guerillas because of the intangible idea of communism on one hand, and being horrified by what their soldiers were doing on the other hand (Read: My Lai Massacre). _

_But, that's just the nutshell version of the Vietnam War XD It's far more complex that America blasting Vietnam with more bombs than the WW2! And yes, the US's reasoning for not submitting a formal apology to Vietnam is that it never formally 'declared' war, even thought it fought there._

_Sorry about the long ramble XD Anyway, it should be full-speed ahead with the usual Asians (Hong Kong, Korea, China, Taiwan etc) from the next chapter :D_


	4. Chapter 4

**A Very Asian Family**

* * *

He tried to act as if no one was coming. He made himself a nice cup of jasmine green tea and sat by the kotatsu in the quietness of his house. No one was coming. He shuffled towards the windows and made sure they were locked in case of the forecasted storm. No one was coming. He sat by the Japenese maple beside the entrance of his house. No one was coming. He even called up Italy and had the European chatter his ear off till the dusk dissipated into the darkness. No one was coming. He made some sushi, watched the miso soup simmer, and poked at the western desserts Italy had sent him- yet again- this afternoon. No one was coming.

As Japan shuffled towards the front door he saw Hong Kong sitting in his living room, casually plugging his laptop to the mounted flatscreen TV.

Japan stopped.

"Yo," Hong Kong shot him a peace sign.

He had an ounce of self-control left to stop him from jumping out of his skin.

"I like, threw my stuff in the guest room- well, I think it was the guest room. I'm not sure," Hong Kong fixed his beats around his head, crossing his legs nonchalantly, "cool house by the way. Real 'traditional' and all. Like, when's dinner?"

"No. You don't break into people's houses like that and…"

"And what?"

"And-" Japan blinked. What was he saying? He pursed his lips and stifled a hiss. "How did you come in?"

"Through the front door, like, _duh_," Hong Kong typed away. "Isn't exactly rocket science."

"You don't do that," Japan closed his eyes. The boy was here for five seconds and he was already feeling a headache breaking through. "Marching in like this- you don't-"

"_God_, Nihon," Hong Kong rolled his eyes, "it's not like a spat on your flag, or something. I just, like, walked in. No big deal. Now when's dinner? I'm your guest and you're like, not being a good host."

Japan steered himself right around. He was going to stalk up to his room and throw himself on his bed in the most outrageous way possible and wait until the insufferable Chinese teen was well out of Tokyo let alone his house. He had been in isolation of _centuries_, he was sure he could manage a good few days. But, before he could take another step, Hong Kong was immediately behind him.

"Like, sorry, completely forgot why I was here," he gripped Japan from the shoulders and, with a strength Japan had no idea the boy possessed- must be from all that processed American junk- he pushed Japan back into the living room. "I'll make dinner. I don't mind. I'm craving hot dogs and stuff- you ok with that?"

"Why did you come here?" it sounded much snappier than he intended and he could immediately hear Vietnam's demanding voice shouting in his head. But with Hong Kong's attitude, it was hard for him _not_ to get frustrated.

"Because you're, like, supposed to be bedridden," said Hong Kong. "I spoke to Italy and he told me about the 'chaotic car-crash'. Talk about a need for speed, mate."

"You're on speaking terms with Italy-san?"

Japan didn't know why, but he suddenly didn't like the idea of Hong Kong being friendly with _his_ friends. It felt quite childish, this bloom of jealousy. Maybe he was scared of comparison. Or maybe he was scared of preference. He had been unaccepted for far too long.

"No, not that Italy. He's a bit too stupid for me."

Japan bristled. "He's not stupid."

He was becoming impulsive, he was becoming outlandish and he was losing his self-restraint. He really needed to sit down in the middle of his garden. Hong Kong looked slightly surprised before a smug smirk crept on his insufferable lips.

"Good to see you've got a heart," he pushed Japan in, "now, like, sit down, old man. Where's your wheelchair?"

Hong Kong brought a savage brutality into his house in the form of a wild, harsh and barbaric music that pounded out of his portable speakers. Japan cringed at the viciously hoarse solos and at the high-pitched screeching of guitars. It destroyed an evidence of solitude and completely eradicated the idea of silence. It left Japan with ringing ears, a searing headache and a certain feeling of warmth. He had never, _never_, had his family visit. When they did come to Tokyo, they were usually in well-placed hotels and he would meet them in the formality of World Meetings, but that was it. But to have at least one of them literally 'make himself at home'- no matter how insolently he was doing so- made him feel… a bit better.

Then, dinner came.

A plate stacked with shining fat potato wedges, sizzling sausages and a hefty helping of ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise. Did he bring all the ingredients with him? Because Japan was quite sure he didn't buy all that when he last went to the store.

"What?"

"Uh… nothing," he couldn't stomach this. "No… it's fine. Thank you."

Hong Kong, already chewing, kept his deadpanned stare at him before giving a sigh, "you're such a princess, Nihon. So picky."

"I have some miso soup in the fridge."

Hong Kong gave him an annoyed shake of the head but pulled Japan's untouched plate towards him.

"Get me a coke while you're at it, yeah?"

Japan faltered. "I don't have any coke."

"Pepsi?"

"Aren't they the same thing?"

Hong Kong gawked at him. "Bloody hell, 'course not. Like, where have you been living? Under a rock?"

Japan stiffened. He wanted to _throw_ something at the boy.

"No. No pepsi."

"Fine then, Fanta."

"I don't have that."

"A Sprite?"

"Not really."

"… 7up?"

The traditional shame of not being a good host settled. Japan scuffed his plastered foot against the floorboards.

"I do have some sparkling water."

"The fuck?" Hong Kong sneered before waving an irate hand. "Fine. Get me your stupid water. Throw in a slice of lime while you're at it, yeah? Since you've got nothing else," he mixed the mayonnaise and ketchup with a fat, shining fry, "No bloody sugar in this house…"

He heated his miso soup and took out some of the sushi he had made earlier. When he went back into the living room he saw that Hong Kong was already starting on Japan's plate. Japan never remembered his appetite being _that_ big when he was the boy's age. Then again, Hong Kong was taller- _much_ taller- and was slowly towering over Korea as well, who currently held the medal of supreme height in the family.

"I had no lime so I added a slice of lemon instead."

Hong Kong blinked at him but soundlessly took the glass. "I was, like, joking about the lime. You know, sarcasm? No? You should really lighten up, Nihon."

"I'll make an attempt," Japan said stiffly.

They settled into a few seconds of silence before Hong Kong pointed a gleaming fat, French fry at him.

"Like, why'd you crash your car?"

Japan could feel his nerves tighten. "I didn't intentionally crash."

"So, like, why didn't you pay attention to the road? Don't you, like, have a license?"

Japan said nothing. He stiffly swirled his spoon in the steaming soup. He didn't think he could stomach it.

"Hello?" Hong Kong waved a hand in front of him. "You can't, like, ignore me. I'm the only one in the house apart from you."

"I do not wish to talk about that night."

"Me too," Hong Kong nodded sagely. "Like, I don't wanna talk about that night either. Not right now. But we will eventually," Japan shot him a glance but Hong Kong was poking the lemon suspended in the glass. "No rush, right?"

Why was he here? Why did he come? It was biting at Japan's mind like the pincers of tiny scorpions. But, Hong Kong said nothing else. After a while, the teen wordlessly took the plates off the table and came back with a kettle of tea. He poured Japan a cup but didn't for himself. Instead, Hong Kong languidly switched on the TV and threw his head down onto the table like a very satiated, very lazy and very lethargic cat. Were all teenagers like that nowadays, thought Japan, as he stared at Hong Kong's head.

"So, like, Vietnam came over, right?"

Hong Kong perched his cheek on his palm. He looked younger, all of a sudden, as his hair framed the roundness of his cheeks. Japan could remember him gaunter, with withdrawn eyes and with his skin stretched over his bones.

"Yes," he kept his eyes on his tea. "She did."

"She totally beat me up."

That wasn't surprising. Vietnam could beat someone with her searing glares alone. "I wonder why."

"I hacked into America's phone, like, ages ago. He's hanging out with her again. So, I, like told her off cuz I didn't like what she was doing. So, she hit me."

"What she does is her concern. We don't have the right to interfere."

"Sure we do," Hong Kong flipped through the channels. "I think Gramps is the only one who doesn't know about them. Like, America takes a crazy amount selfies and she's always like, in the picture. Taiwan thinks it's cute- like a tragic romance and all- but I think Viet's just being stupid."

Hong Kong gave Japan a pointed look. Japan blinked and had the urge to look over his shoulders, as though the answer Hong Kong was looking for was suspended in the background. Hong Kong sighed melodramatically, shaking his head as though he was fed-up with an uncooperative toddler instead of a millennia-old nation.

"You're like, supposed to tell me what you think. You really suck at conversations, you know," Hong Kong rolled his eyes.

"I don't believe we should be talking about her decisions."

"Sure we don't," Hong Kong continued pressing the buttons on the remote, his long finger a blur. "Romano's peeved cuz I'm mass producing his Prada bags."

How the hell was he supposed to answer that? Hong Kong fixed with him with a look. He was starting to feel this was turning out to be a one-on-one tutoring session on social skills and nation gossip. Hong Kong gave a bitter scoff.

"You know who you remind me of?" said Hong Kong, his eyes running through the stream of headlines on a news channel. "England. When he was all 'empire' crazy he thought he was, like, the best thing on earth. Spoke to us like we were in a political meeting all the time. Now he, like, can't hold his little island together and boom, he's like, on the same plane as everyone else. Like, he'd make a cup of tea and _not_ talk about, like, tax rates or the weather."

"I… fail to see you point."

"Like _talk_," Hong Kong poked him. "I used to think you were a conceited snob before cuz, you like, never attempted to talk to us. You should loosen up."

Easy for him to say, thought Japan before realizing that, truly, it wasn't easy at all. The Hong Kong who sat in front of him, languidly at ease, was the same Hong Kong that had puked blood on his imperial, marble floors. He was the same Hong Kong who lay writhing because of the plague that ate through his infested skin. He was the same Hong Kong who died every morning after screaming through every night.

Japan picked himself up, trying not to look at Hong Kong's disappointed stare, and tucked his arms into his sleeves. He bid a quiet goodnight and slowly shuffled out of the room.

* * *

He ran another check on the windows. The night had become colder and the airs were biting. He made his way downstairs and, though he didn't hear the TV, he could hear Hong Kong tinkering on his laptop. When was the boy going to sleep, exactly?

Japan pursed his lips and was heading towards the opposite hall-

"_Hey_."

Japan froze. Was that…

"Hey. Are you alright?" Hong Kong's voice sounded concerned. "You look a bit…"

"_I'm fine_," sighed Korea.

He shouldn't eavesdrop. It was an invasion of privacy. It was disrespectful. But, never in his centuries of life had he heard Korea sound so _defeated_.

"You sure-"

"_Yeah. Are you alone?"_

"Yeah. Why?"

"_Just… where are you anyway? You're not in your house?"_

"I…" he heard Hong Kong falter. "I'm at Macau's. He redecorated the living room. He's not here right now- casino night and all. Something the matter?"

"_I… I was…" _Korea's voice sounded thick. "_I was in China's house earlier and…" _

"And?"

"_He was with his Boss. He didn't know… I was coming and I... I heard…"_

"Heard what?"

"_Are- are you sure no one's there?"_

"Who would be with me? You tell me."

Korea said nothing. He could hear Hong Kong knocking on the screen of his laptop.

"What's wrong?"

"_I… I wasn't… I wasn't supposed to listen but… I heard and I- I don't think it's true because… because China would say something to me about it first b-before deciding that he could- could go and- and- and do what he thinks is right when it's not right-"_

"I don't get what you're saying…"

"_Did you know about it?"_

"About what?"

"_About… a-about Hyung-Soo?"_

Hong Kong said nothing.

"_They're crazy," _he whispered. "_Everyone's g-gone crazy- they can't kill him. He d-doesn't need to die because I can take care of him- I can- he's my brother- _my_ brother- and they can't- why aren't you saying anything? Why aren't you saying anything?!"_

"Don't shout!"

"_Why didn't- you knew? They're going to- and you didn't- but you knew-"_

"I don't know anything," hissed Hong Kong. He had never sounded so venomous. "Calm down for a second-"

"_You know- does everyone- does everyone know? Are they all- is he- but- no wait- they can't. He can live- I can take care of him- I'll make sure- I can help him- no one's listening to me-" _

"Korea-"

"_You h-have- you have to help me-"_

"Help you do what? There's nothing we can do for him and _you_, of all people, know that-"

"_Don't say that."_

"It's _true_. We've spoken about this before- things are different-"

"_I just need to s-speak to him. They're not letting me speak to him- I have to see him- it'll get better if I just speak to him-"_

"For the thousandth time, _no_. You know you are not allowed-"

"_No one's letting me- if t-they just give a chance- I know I-I can reach him- he'll listen to me if he's with me- I'm- I'm his brother, he has to listen-"_

"Listen to me-"

"_I-I don't know what to do-"_

"You do nothing!"

"_He's my brother. No one- no one kills h-him- they c-can't- he's my-" _Korea laughed. It sounded like a dry sob. He said nothing for a few taciturn seconds. Then, with unnerving calmness, "_if he dies, I'll put a bullet through my head."_

Japan shivered.

"You do that," said Hong Kong. "Call me up when you wake up again, though, yeah? For once, will you _stop_ acting like a human and start acting like a nation?"

"_You don't understand- I'm such an idiot, because you don't understand and I thought you- but no," _bitterness. "_You're just some stranger who doesn't know where he belongs. A foreigner who's been too far away for too long and doesn't know his priorities anymore-"_

"Oh, any _you_ do? Wasting your breath trying to save some fucking maniac who's going to end up getting blown up anyway?"

"_I'll waste every breath in my body- I'll bleed for his sins if I have to! You don't understand- you don't have a shred of humanity in you- not you, not China not fucking Japan- all of you should- should-"_

The house was distilled with a heavy, heavy silence. Who cut the line, Japan didn't know, but he slowly and silently walked away. There had been a storm, as forecasted, but he had a feeling he should've kept the windows open to let out the suffocating misery in the air.

* * *

_He could see himself. _

_He was standing by a window, the black uniform a contrast against the pale skies and the delicate cherry blossoms. His buttons gleamed and the scabbard of his sword glinted from his lithe waist. There was an impassiveness on his face- a mask of cool indifference- that was like looking at the closed window or a formal painting hung on high formal walls, too far out of reach and too high to understand. _

_He could smell blood- but it wasn't from the man by the open window. That man smelt of steel, perfumes and too expensive western wine. _

_He could smell blood. Blood, burning flesh and the stink of paddy fields. But where was it coming from-_

_He lifted his hands._

_They were covered in blood. _

_It didn't drip- it splattered. It gushed between his fingers and oozed from his nails. He backed away, terrified at the blood that shattered on the floor, grabbing onto his grey kimono. He backed away- staggering- his red hands throbbing-_

_A mirror. _

_He faced it-_

_He could see himself-_

_So much blood. _

_It stained his face, clumped his hair, slathered over his arms, gushed from his nails and swarmed around him. Sticky, warm, dirty, rotten blood. He touched the mirror- touched his face- was it really him- was that really him- was all that-_

_His uniformed persona looked at him indolently with masked, blank eyes. "Don't look at me," he said smoothly. His voice echoed. "It's not _my_ blood."_

_It oozed out of his eyes. _

"_They're going to kill you~! They're going to kill you~! They're going to kill you~! They're going to kill you~!" _

_Yong Soo. He was small- young- and he was skipping around a broken, bleeding pulp, pointing at it with demented glee. His face was half-burnt, showing searing tendons, scalded muscles and burst, bleeding veins. His nails were torn from his fingers and his skin stretched over his starving body. He stopped and suddenly looked up, his insane eyes locking with Kiku's. His smile shattered. _

"_I'll put a bullet through my head," he whispered. _

_Kiku shook his head, "no."_

"_I'll put a bullet through my head," he repeated. He was looking straight at Kiku. "I'll put a bullet through my head."_

"_Please… don't…" Kiku slowly stepped forward. He was stepping in puddles of blood. It radiated out of the broken body ahead of him. "Im Yong Soo…"_

"_I'll put a bullet through _my_ head," Yong Soo laughed. Blood started seeping from his eyes. Blood started seeping from his mouth. Blood started seeping from his hair. "I'll put a bullet through my head. Watch me, Kiku. I'll put a bullet through my head-"_

"_No!" _

_There was a sudden bang- deafening and sharp and monstrous- _

_Tiny, tiny cockroaches- their pincers clacking- their hairs wildly waving- _

_He backed away frantically, watching them scurry towards him, leaving a trail of blood behind their tiny, tiny spiky legs-_

_They crept up his skin- like needles- pricking, pricking, pricking- blood oozing- he backed, staggering, stumbling- pain erupting- his head thrumming- his heart thrashing-_

_He slammed into someone-_

"_Nii-san!" he tried to hold him- _

_Yao backed away. He looked confused. "Kiku? What's wrong, aru?"_

"_He's- I- the blood- I-" he gripped the front of his brother's robes. He shivered. "I- the blood- I- I don't know- they're running- everywhere-"_

"_That's my blood, aru."_

"_What?"_

_Kiku watched his brother's skin become paler, watched the silky hairs fall from his head, watched the yellowing nails clatter against the floor, watched him getting smaller and smaller and smaller- _

"_No- no- wait-" but he was already backing away, terrified, "I-I-"_

"_Where are you going?" his uniformed persona said by the window, long fingers casually caressing a flower. _

"_Home," he whispered, devastated. "I h-have to go home-"_

"_What home? You broke that home."_

"_You broke that home-" Kiku pointed. Blood clogged his nose. Blood clogged his ears. Blood clogged his throat. "You and your crazy imperial dreams-" blood clogged his mouth. He wretched._

"_My imperial dreams. Your hands. I took the land, you slew the swine. We made a good team."_

"_T-they're not-"_

"_Really? You butchered them like swine-"_

"_I butchered no one! You-"_

"_I'm not the one with their blood all over me," he shrugged. "Can't you see? You're rotting in their flesh."_

"_I-"_

_The black uniform blended with the impeding night. He could see the man pushing back his shoulders and jutting out his chin with a poise of practiced pride. "I'm Nihon-koku. I fought _for_ my people. You, Honda-san, killed yours."_

"_NO-!"_

"Wake up! _Wake up!" _-

Sweat. He was _drenched_ in sweat.

Hong Kong- his worried face staring at him- his hands holding his thin shoulders-

"Hey, you're ok- it's alright- just breathe-" Hong Kong swallowed. Japan didn't relent his grip. His fingers were digging into the boy's thin arms. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. He couldn't think. "You're awake now. Lie down. It's ok-"

"I-" he said numbly. His fingers started to lax. "I n-need…"

"Water? I'll get water- just wait-"

"No," he swallowed, "I need to… need to wash… all the-"

"Lie down," Hong Kong said softly, pushing him gently against the pillows. Japan shoved his hands away. Soft hands. He had such soft hands.

"There's blood… all over me…" he could feel it sticking against his skin, warm and gruesome and slimy. He could feel it clogged up his nose, hardened and clotted and rotten. "Your blood… off my skin," there was a flash of fear across Hong Kong's face, "I… need to… wash the blood-"

"Wake up," Hong Kong gave him a firm shaking, his eyes wide. "Come on- wake _up_. There's no blood. Now, wake up!"

Japan pushed the boy's hands off him and stumbled towards the bathroom. Blindly, his hands fumbled for the tap. It blasted boiling water. Hong Kong shut it.

"No- you are _not_ going crazy on me, old man," He gripped Japan's shoulders and forced him out of the bathroom. "You had a bad dream, now, you're going back to _sleep_. There's no blood."

_There's no blood_. He pushed the teen's hands away and gripped his head. His forehead was slathered in cold sweat, his hair plastered against his skin. The scars on his back were bulging. His raucous heart was thrumming. _There's no blood. _He had to wake up. He had to wake up. There was no blood. There was no blood. He felt as though he had been suspended in midair before his feet finally touched the ground again.

Hong Kong was standing over him, arms crossed, his expression masked yet his eyes apprehensive.

"I'm… I apologize," he tried to stabilize his voice. His fingers wouldn't stop shaking. "I'm… I'm fine now. _Arigato_."

"Do you want some water?"

"No, thank you."

"Tea?"

"No."

"I'll get you tea."

He felt too tired to argue. The boy left the room. He stared out the grey window where the cherry blossoms hung. Hong Kong placed a steaming mug in his hands, the wreaths of chamomile rising from its depths, before taking a seat next to him on the edge of the bed.

"You ok?"

"I'm fine now," he felt desecrated. "_Gomenasai. _It… should not happen again." It had been happening too often. "Please… go back to sleep. I'm fine now," if he repeated that, perhaps it would settle in. "Please."

"You're not ok," Hong Kong murmured. "It'd be stupid of me to ask if you wanna talk about it, cuz, you probably wouldn't."

Japan swallowed. He stared at the wreaths of chamomile. He stared at the droplets that fell from the rim of the mug. He stared at his fingers. His scarred, scarred fingers. He stared at his nails. His bitten, bitten nails. He stared.

He felt Hong Kong stand, faltering slightly, before slowly making his way towards the door. Japan would be left to the mercy of the shadows that haunted the room. He'd be left to the mercy of the darkness in his mind and the sickness in his heart. He'd be left alone- in the silence, in the stillness, in the muteness- to suffocate.

"You're not," said Hong Kong finally. "Covered in blood. You used to be. But, now… not as much."

Japan let a wan smile creep up his lips. "You're mistaken."

Hong Kong was terse by the doorway. His breaths: tight.

"Do you know why I came?"

There was a hurling of the wind. Had the forecasted storm come at last?

"Because I knew you didn't mean it."

Brash anger and undiluted pride wanted him to lash out and say _I meant what I said, _just to spite the boy. But he could hear Vietnam's voice, clear and demanding: _impersonal_, _arrogant and confused_ and knew what she had meant.

"I say really bad things to people, too, when I want to hurt them. Stuff I don't mean," Hong Kong looked at his fingers, "I'm difficult. I slag people off. I'm kinda cruel sometimes. Yong Soo's… too emotional. Gramps thinks he's in charge when, really, he isn't. Mei's naïve and Macau just… won't stop all his rubbish. We're all just as bad. But, we don't beat ourselves over it all the time. We're human."

Japan could see faint discolorations on the mug. He could feel the heat blister his fingers.

"Like, what do you want me to say?" Hong Kong sighed.

"You should sleep. There's nothing to say."

"I forgave you."

Japan's eyes pricked. He pursed his lips. That made no sense.

"When you yelled at Yong Soo? When you were saying all that… rubbish about everyone… I saw that you were hurting just as much as we were. You know what, you were hurting worse and I thought… I'm glad I'm not him. I don't think I could live if I felt what you were feeling," his smile was wry. "I sound like a bastard but… I just… I lived, my whole life, tossed around and people- people really screwed me over. I didn't want to do the same- even if it was a little bit. I know I suck sometimes, but… I'm not always that bad." He looked away. His hands fell to his sides. "You're not as bad as you think you are. You used to be… but, like, not anymore."

Soft footsteps led to the lights being extinguished in the hall. The wind died down but the rain started pelting against the glass. Japan set down the mug and looked at his scarred, bitten, clammy palms. Slowly and gently, he enclosed them over his eyes, listening to the sounds of his breaths and listening to the thrumming of his heart. Slowly and gently, he dug his nails into his temples and waited for the stinging pain to subside.

Everything was darkness, darkness, darkness…

* * *

_AN: I had to really reign myself in with this chapter! _

_I have to admit, this… was difficult and it was re-written at least a good three times. Japan just gets too hard to deal with__** ***__huff*_

_This chapter is a bit more contemporary than historical, especially the whole thing with North and South Korea. Rumor has it that China is fed-up with the North Korean government and is 'plotting' to 'end' the regime. It's not too surprising if it were completely true, taking into account the fragility of the state of N. Korean, the number of defects and the utter poverty that is gripping the country. _

_Interestingly enough, South Korea implemented a policy called the 'Sunshine Policy' where it tried to seek peaceful negotiations with North Korea and aimed for cooperation and coexistence. But of course, knowing North Korea, the policy failed dismally around 2010. And, apparently, South Korea receives declarations of war nearly every day from the North to boot. So, from getting lambasted in the vacation house by Japan to getting crazy threats from his highly unstable brother, then finding out that China's been planning things behind his back, Im Yong Soo is _not_ having a good time…_

_Another interesting thing to note (really hope I'm not boring you now xD) is the fact that Hong Kong and Japanese relations are actually quite good (especially when compared to and China). Economically, their markets are quite dependent on one another with Japan establishing the most business firms in Hong Kong after the US. They're relation is gradually evolving- with Hong Kong accepting a lot of Japanese media, fashions etc- while Hong Kong's relation with China is actually _really, really_ strained. South Korea, on the other hand, has a censorship on Japanese media (like dramas and music (J-pop) and all) to try and keep their native Korean culture unique and untouched. It's only recently that they've allowed Japanese merchandise to hit their stores. If that doesn't show the psychological impact of Japanese rule on Korea than I don't know what does... o.O _

___On a lighter note! 'Macau and all his rubbish' stands for a small headcannon on APH Macau (despite his calm aura and all) being completely addicted to gambling, drinking and women… which can't be too far from the truth when you look at Macau. It's known as the 'Monte Carlo of the Orient' and 50% of it's economy is from gambling! As for Hong Kong, well, after being tossed from China to England to Japan to England then to China again, well, he's had a very rough time so, he's a bit worn out from all the arguing XD Now that I think about it, he's matured a bit over the course of this little 'Very Asian' arc…_

_Another long ramble, said and done! Anyway, hope this chapter good enough! :D_


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